Under one Roof
by Arcane Assassin
Summary: Anyone would be ecstatic to be sharing a room with a potential love interest; too bad for Fleur, her's can't stand her, that and Gabrielle is determined to make this as difficult for her as she can.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is supposed to be a sort of linear collection of one-shots; it will probably only span for the entire Fourth Year, but I guess we'll see. It is also going to end up as a FleurXHermione story, though it will take a while for any real interaction between the two to occur, so if you're a patient person you may enjoy this.**

**This is my first venture into the Harry Potter world, and I hope it is a worthy read, enjoy!**

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"You do know that they're not supposed to get any help with the tasks right, Hermione?"

"Obviously, but do you honestly believe that Karkaroff and Madame Maxime aren't practically spoon feeding their champions in order to improve their chances of winning? Besides, I don't actually want Harry to die competing in this tournament, because then I'd just be stuck with you, Ronald."

"Thanks Hermione."

Hermione simply laughed at the stricken expression on Harry's face, playfully shoving him, the Golden egg clasped firmly in her other hand, as the three headed back to Gryffindor Tower after yet another unsuccessful afternoon spent trying to decipher the horrendous shrieks that erupted from within every time it was opened.

The playful laughter died however, as they entered the common room, filled as it was with,

"Why are there Beauxbatons students in _our _common room?"

There in the middle of the common room, surrounding Professor McGonagall, were no less than eight Beauxbatons girls, each holding what appeared to be a small overnight bag. The trio's entrance had not gone unnoticed, with the unexpected guests all turning in their direction at Hermione's rather loud observation.

To her credit, she had the grace to look embarrassed, trying to hide behind Harry, while simultaneously pushing the egg back into his possession.

"Bloody hell!"

Groaning quietly as more eyes narrowed in on them, more than a few bearing bemused expression, as a single figure saw fit to make their presence known. Among the other girls stood none other, much to Hermione's chagrin, than the Beauxbatons' Champion, Fleur Delacour.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I'm glad I've caught you." The head of Gryffindor House beckoned the stunned brunette forward. Gesturing to the group of girls surrounding her, she continued, "It would seem as if the Beauxbatons Carriage has suffered some serious damage in its landing. What with all the rain, several of the quarters have been flooded; as such Professor Dumbledore has asked that we temporarily house their displaced students while repairs are completed."

Hermione frowned at the news, somewhat surprised that in this world of magic such a thing had not already been resolved, but more importantly not understanding why Professor McGonagall was telling her all this.

"So?" She asked, starting to have a vague idea as to why she had been singled out.

"So, Miss Granger, we will be needing to borrow your bed for the meantime; Professor Dumbledore suggested that we split the students between the dormitories of the four houses, filling any empty beds, and taking a single bed from those dorms that do not have any room for the extra students. As yours was the neatest within your dormitory it has been commandeered. Miss Weasley assured me in your absence that this would not be a problem." Looking over the rims of her square spectacles, it was obvious that she expected no argument to the contrary.

After throwing a glowering look in the direction of the youngest Weasley, one that was studiously ignored, Hermione forced a smile, before asking, "Of course Professor, but if you don't mind me asking, where am I supposed to sleep?"

Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on McGonagall's face as she waited for an answer, she could feel a pair of deep blue eyes staring at her intently. It took everything she had not to glare at the unwanted intruder, fervently hoping that _she_ wouldn't be the one sleeping in her bed. Although, if that did turn out to be the case she hoped that she could get some Itching Powder from Fred and George to make her stay particularly uncomfortable.

"Well, you can either share with one of your dorm mates; have accommodation set up here in the common room, or share with one of our guests."

Ginny looked up at that, calling over to the frozen brunette, "You can share with me Hermione if you'd like."

Said brunette's eyes widened in horror, looking over at her redheaded friend, "Absolutely not. No. Never. You couldn't _pay_ me enough." The other Gryffindor's looked on in amusement at Hermione's vehement refusal, with even some of the Beauxbatons students trying to hide their smiles at the outburst.

Ginny looked offended at the overenthusiastic response, "Why not?" She shot back indignantly.

Hermione looked at her as if she was mad, "Why not? Why n- because you are possibly the _worst_ person to share a bed with. _Ever_. You fidget like crazy, steal all the blankets, your feet are always freezing, and you chase people in your sleep!"

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do."

"I think I would notice if I did something like that." The younger girl huffed, crossing her arms defensively in front of her, cheeks blazing at being the centre of attention.

Hermione mirrored her stance, eyebrow raised provocatively. "You think so? So I guess you also think I rather like sleeping on the floor as well?" Ginny looked down shamefacedly at that, having on multiple occasions woken to find Hermione sprawled on the floor over the summer. "I didn't think so." She snapped, turning back to Professor McGonagall, flushing deeply as if only just realising that almost every pair of eyes were fixed firmly on her, McGonagall's bemused expression doing little to alleviate her growing horror.

"Do you have a preference for sleeping arrangements then, Miss Granger?" a shallow smile pulling at the corners of the House Head's mouth.

Hermione sighed quietly, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Shooting a furtive glance around the room, studiously avoiding looking at the foreign students, she found no forthcoming offers to share. _Looks like it's the Common Room for me then_, as she was about to inform her Head of House that it would be best if one of the couches was transfigured into a bed come curfew, a small figure came darting out from the huddle of blue uniforms.

"'Ermione!" The small blur of blue and blonde crashed into Hermione, forcing her back into Ron who had been loitering behind her with a dumbstruck expression on his face.

Successfully regaining her footing, amidst muffled curses from Ron, Hermione looked down at the small figure clinging to her waist.

"Gabrielle!" The younger Delacour gave her a cheeky grin, gripping her tighter and Hermione returned the embrace, lifting her up slightly, rocking her from side to side. "I take it this means your room was flooded too?" She questioned, setting the younger girl back on her feet.

Gabrielle nodded furiously in response, "Oui, I share weez ma sœur aînée, we 'ad to 'ave a bucket under zhis big 'ole in zhe roof!" Using her hands for emphasis, showing (no doubt an exaggeration) the size of the proposed hole, which would need a bathtub, not a bucket, to catch all the water it would let in.

"Indeed!" Came Hermione's amused response, gently stroking her hair, painfully aware of a very similar set of piercing blue eyes to the ones gazing up at her at that moment focused clearly on the side of her face, and they were not nearly as amused.

"Oui, so now we 'ave to sleep 'ere!" Turning those big blue eyes onto her surroundings, as if only seeing them for the first time, she was clearly enamoured by the Gryffindor common room.

"A travesty, I'm sure," Came Hermione's measured response, trying not to laugh at Gabrielle's obvious fascination with her surroundings.

"A what?" Confusion written all over the younger girl's face, her grasp of English not nearly as advanced as the older Beauxbatons students.

"Travesty," Hermione repeated, still studiously ignoring the piercing gaze that felt as if it was attempting to melt the side of her face off, "It means… never mind." Smiling at the bundle of blonde and blue attached to her waist, increasingly amused by her acceptance of such a lacklustre response.

"Bien," She continued, not to be deterred by foreign words, "You can sleep with me!" She announced, looking rather pleased with herself, completely oblivious to the stifled laughter that seemed to be rising in its vocality, alongside the horrified expressions of the Beauxbatons girls.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek at the announcement, and without thinking felt her gaze flick over to meet the increasingly unamused one of the elder Delacour as if asking permission to share with her little sister. Fleur's expression was carefully neutral, but Hermione could feel the displeasure in her gaze as if it were a physical force.

She didn't know how to refuse the younger Delacour's suggestion, getting the feeling that she wasn't really asking for permission, rather, demanding that Hermione share with her and no one else. "I'm not sure…" She started, trying to pretend that the persistent glare being directed at the side of her head had nothing to do with her response. But upon seeing the disappointed look on Gabrielle's face, she found she couldn't refuse, "You don't steal the blankets do you?"

The smile Gabrielle gave her was nothing short of breathtaking; the giggle that erupted from her as she threw her arms tighter around the older witch was absolutely adorable, and Hermione felt she had made the right choice, even if she had to try and hide the wince at the increased intensity levied through those intense blue eyes from across the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**I am actually quite surprised at the reception this fic received, so i thank you for your support and encouragement. Someone mentioned that they didn't get why Hermione and Gabrielle were so chummy, so i figured i might regale you with an annexed version of their meeting, but also to set the scene for future Fleur/Hermione interactions. **

**Enjoy!**

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"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Meet _her _of course!"

Hermione frowned as she flicked her hair out of her face in annoyance, struggling to keep her balance on the moving trunk while retaining a firm grip on the golden egg, or 'The Banshee' as Ron so eloquently dubbed it.

"When I was on holidays in France, the summer before last," came her distracted response, griping the trunk tighter with her legs as they passed over a particularly rough patch of ground. Almost slipping from her perch, she let out a startled squeak, struggling to keep a hold of the egg, "Honestly Harry, can't you move a little smoother?"

"Yes, well," he grumbled out between gritted teeth, "It's hardly my fault that Ron is a lumbering giant, is it?"

Ron snorted in response, fixing his grip on the handle, pulling in a deep breath before retorting, "Well it's not my fault that you're a skinny, shrimpy git is it?"

At that Harry relinquished his hold of the trunk, sending it, and Hermione, tumbling to the ground with a loud thump. Hermione let out a shriek as she collided with the muddy turf, the egg sent flying out of her hands as she landed. Ron let his end of the trunk hit the ground too; laughing at Hermione's stunned expression.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Came her rather shrill cry, causing both boys to recoil, wincing slightly as they did so. Harry had the grace to look somewhat sheepish under his red faced exhaustion, while Ron simply looked at her as if she was mad.

"Well, that's what you get for acting like the bloody queen; honestly, do we look like pack horses to you?" Dusting off the seat of her pants, grimacing at the wetness she found there, she raised a single delicate eyebrow at the redhead's outburst, daring him to encourage her to respond.

He flushed red in response, dropping her gaze, muttering an apology under his breath, "… 'sides, Harry dropped you first…"

Turning away from the pair, she took in their surroundings, figuring that they were far enough away from the castle to try this ludicrous experiment without drawing too much attention to their activities.

"Right, well, we should be fine here, open it up then," She ordered, wandering into the nearby bushes to locate the egg; she could have sworn it flew off in this direction when she landed rather unceremoniously on her backside – she reminded herself never to let the boys carry her anywhere in future, wincing as she felt the beginning of a bruise forming as she bent over, dusting off the mud, leaves and chunks of grass now sticking to the golden surface in her hands.

Walking back to the boys, she found them standing around the open trunk, tossing the Quaffle back and forth, waiting for her to get back. The bludgers rattled dangerously in their restraints, and the snitch was safely tucked away in its little hole behind the school crest. At Ron's feet sat the beater's bat – the reason they had commandeered the Quidditch chest in the first place.

Staring rather apprehensively at the short bat, she let out a shaky breath, trying to think of some way to talk the boys out of this mad attempt to get the egg to reveal its secrets.

"Harry," She started, the boy swinging round to face her only to have the Quaffle collide with the back of his head, she winced as he cradled it in his hands, shooting a rather dirty look at Ron who only grinned apologetically in response, "You do realise that if we do this it may get stuck open and then we'll have to live with its screeching twenty-four seven?"

Still rubbing his head, Harry looked up at her, pushing his glasses back up his nose, shrugging as he did so, "It did cross my mind, but seriously, I think we're running out of ideas here…" He trailed off, looking quite apprehensively at the bat as well.

Ron, however, looked exceptionally miffed, "You're telling me that we just lugged this hunk of junk, with you on top of it, all the way from the Quidditch pitch, to somewhere in the forest to try out _my_ idea, only to tell us _now_ that you're getting cold feet?!" He threw his hands in the air to emphasise his disbelief, turning around grumbling as he did, "… and you won't even tell me how you know Fleur…"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly at him, tucking the egg firmly under her arm so she could put both hands on her hips, eyebrow raised dangerously at the fuming ginger, "For the last time, _Ronald_, I don't know Fleur, I know _Gabrielle_!"

"Well they're sisters; you gotta know at least something about her!" He retorted, just as vehemently.

"Well, I am so sorry to disappoint – if anything I got the impression that she didn't like me at all, probably thought I was just some random muggle sullying her sister…"

Harry looked up from twirling the Quaffle between his hands, head quirked curiously at her. All too late Hermione realised she had effectively put her foot in her mouth, and with the way Ron's eyes lit up at the mention of seeing the French champion outside of Hogwarts, she knew that they wouldn't make any progress with the egg until she at least regaled them with some part of her holiday.

"Ok, fine," throwing her hands up in much the same fashion as Ron only moments earlier, egg forgotten letting the infernal thing tumble to the ground. She re-closed the lid on the Quidditch trunk, pushing the bat away with her foot, and sat herself down.

"I was in France the summer before last, my parents thought it would be a good idea, they like to travel you see," She trailed off here, remembering with a certain degree of fondness the multitude of vacations she had taken with her parents – just this summer, before the Quidditch World Cup, she had been in Germany, going on tours through the Black Forest, visiting Worms, even going to visit a monastery where they used sourdough from the sixteenth century!

"Anyways, I got lost, my French wasn't exactly up to par and the map I had was very confusing – all the street names looked and sounded virtually the same!" She added indignantly at the bemused expressions on her friends faces, tossing her hair out of her face once more, she continued with a rather annexed version of events, "Well, I was wondering around aimlessly, and ended up walking right into Gabrielle." She smiled fondly at the memory, chuckling at how they had both tried to speak, but neither really understanding the other; it made for some very interesting conversations.

Realising she had just been sitting there silently for a moment or two, the boys waiting on her to elaborate, she just gave them a disbelieving stare, shaking her head as she once again reached for the egg that had rolled behind the trunk, studiously ignoring their silent pleading for more.

"That's it?" Ron burst out, thoroughly displeased, "What about Fleur? How did you meet her?"

Hermione sighed in response, musing quietly that she had been doing that an awful lot today. "Gabrielle and I got to talking, badly – she didn't speak much English, and I couldn't speak French to save my life – but really, she was bored, and learning another language seemed as good a way as any to spend her summer. She got me back to my hotel, gave me her address, we spent more time together, developing our language skills," She paused for breath, knowing that she was really skirting around what they really wanted to know, but really, what could she tell them? She never spoke to Fleur that summer, was never introduced to her, and didn't see the fascination that the others, Harry more reserved than Ron, held for the older girl.

"And?" Came Ron's rather rude interruption again, waving her hands for her to continue, brow furrowed at her continual avoidance of sharing the details of her and Fleur's fated meeting.

"I went to Gabrielle's summer home _once_," Placing a heavy emphasis on the last word, staring pointedly at Ron as she did so, "Fleur was there," She held up a hand to forestall any interruption on Ron's behalf, "I was waiting in the entrance hall for Gabrielle to come down, and Fleur was standing at the top of the stairs on the landing, glaring down at me." She shrugged at the memory, still unable to fathom what she had done to elicit the older girl's wrath.

"So you never spoke to her?" Harry asked in that quiet voice of his, Quaffle forgotten in his hands, eyes fixed firmly on his only female friend.

"Never."

Ron grumbled in disbelief, but held his peace as Hermione moved from her seat atop the trunk, stooping to pick up the bat, before replacing the Quaffle with the egg in Harry's hands.

"Well if we're going to do this, we may as well get on with it." Taking her position, she gripped the bat fiercely, adjusting her stance, trying to remember everything her father had taught her about softball – she had been a rather decent batter as a child, 'A-league potential' her coach had said, but she had been so caught up in her books, and then magic, that the sport had kind of been put on a back burner for her.

"Ready?" Harry asked, pulling back the arm that clutched the egg; Ron had retreated behind Hermione, ready to catch it should she miss.

And Hermione never missed.

At least, not when she was playing every weekend and had training three times a week.

And that had been nearly five years ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**I know this is about two weeks late, but life has been rather crazy lately - though just a warning I still have 1 assignment and 4 exams to go so I apologise for any future delays in chapters, not that that's really your problem... Anyways, this is more of a filler chapter, and yes the next one is under way, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.**

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"Remind why again you haven't joined the Quidditch team? You would be an epic beater!"

"Because, Ronald," Hermione ground out between clenched teeth, washing the mud, grass and leaf litter from the egg's surface, wincing at the chill of the water in the Black Lake, "I prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground, thank you very much."

Rising from her knees, satisfied that she had gotten most of the dirt off, wincing as her back cricked at the motion. After an hour looking for the egg after Harry's first pitch, Hermione was more than ready to return to the castle, with yet another failure at getting the egg to reveal its secrets.

Ron had been rather impressed with Hermione's batting skills, having sent the egg pelting off deeper into the forest on her first swing. With the beauty of hindsight, Hermione reasoned that perhaps it would have been better if Ron had been standing behind Harry instead of her, but alas, that was not the case. So instead the three of them had been looking under every shrub and tree root, until rather exasperated with their search, Hermione had pulled out her wand and accio-ed the damn thing to her.

After a minute or two just standing there, thinking it another failure, the familiar whiz of an object pelting through the air became known to their ears. Harry and Hermione were able to duck in time, leaving Ron to be pelted with the egg; other than being a little winded, he was alright, regaling them with the well skilled timing of his catch all the way to the lake.

Shaking off the excess water, she shoved the egg into Harry's hands, moving back into the forest to relocate the Quidditch trunk – she wasn't at all willing to accio that particular item. Surprisingly it took them about half an hour to locate the trunk, Ronald going on and on about his Keeper potential, only digressing enough to try and convince Hermione that not only was Quidditch the best thing in the whole world, but that if she chose to play for the team then she could really be counted as one of the boys.

Ron kept his peace after that particular comment, now nursing an egg-shaped bruise on the back of his head.

Egg now firmly back in her possession, acting as a deterrent from any further comment by either boy, all three let out silent sighs of relief upon catching sight of the trunk, sitting quite nicely right where they had left it. Both boys moved to grasp the handles, tucking the Quaffle and beater's bat back in their proper place, with Harry offering Hermione her former perch atop the closed lid.

Feeling the definite formation of a bruise on her backside she declined the offer, choosing instead to lead the way back to the castle; it was Harry's poor sense of direction that had gotten them so lost trying to relocate the Quidditch trunk in the first place.

It was a relatively solemn group that trekked its way across the Hogwarts grounds heading towards the Quidditch storeroom, Ron eyeing the golden weapon in Hermione's hands all the while, with both boys gasping and red faced by the time they reached their destination.

A single raised eyebrow was all it took to silence Ron's grumbling about missing lunch, though both Harry and Hermione were just relieved that this particular experiment hadn't ended in disaster with the egg being stuck open, subjecting them to its ear-splitting wailing permanently. It was actually the quick stop at the castle kitchens, Hermione frowning darkly at Ron as he stuffed his face on the goods thrust at him by the overeager house elves, which led Hermione to another brainwave concerning the egg. With a hurried goodbye she left the two boys behind rushing towards the library.

"Mental that one," Ron mumbled around a mouthful of egg sandwich, Harry nodding absentmindedly in agreement as Dobby chatted happily to him, regaling him with every new addition of clothing.

The egg lay forgotten on an empty table in the library, Hermione hidden deep in the shelves browsing for any books she could find on translating charms or silencing ones; anything she could find involving volume and noise modulation was added to the towering stack of tomes beside her. It took her three trips to bring back as many resources as she could find to her chosen desk, only to find on her last journey someone sitting in her seat, egg spinning between their hands.

"Gabrielle, what are you doing here?" Hermione was genuinely surprised to see the bubbly blonde sitting there. It was a Sunday so she had assumed, falsely apparently, that the young girl would be spending some quality time with her sister.

Gabrielle looked up at the exclamation, her face splitting into her signature cheeky grin, as she practically leapt from her seat to hug Hermione. It was a rather awkward attempt given the sheer amount of tomes clutched in the older girl's arms, but the managed, though Gabrielle would probably be nursing that bump on her shoulder for some time.

Pulling Hermione back to the table, after graciously offering to relieve her of one book, her small frame couldn't really accommodate much more than that, she began to regale the older girl with her, no doubt, epic tale.

"Well, I was supposed to spend zhe day weez ma sœur, 'owever, she eez busy, so I 'ave been looking for 'ou!" Though she tried to hide it with her smile, Hermione could see that Gabrielle was quite miffed that she had been passed over by Fleur for some unknown reason.

Not really knowing what to say to the younger girl, Hermione merely nodded, setting her armload down on the table, unsure if Gabrielle would be awfully offended if she started organising the books into those that looked most promising before delving into her research.

Gabrielle for her part simply frowned at the egg on the table, jabbing it with an accusatory finger, "Are 'ou supposed to 'ave zhis? Zhe champions aren't supposed to receive any outside help, oui?"

Hermione flushed at the comment, struggling to hold her tongue in response, knowing it would be quite rude to declare that her sister was being spoon-fed by their headmistress; and aside from the first task, she had no real proof that such a thing was true.

So instead she settled for the relative neutrality of a shrug, pulling one of the towering stacks towards her, carefully considering her options: she could studiously ignore the girl and think of something to redirect her attention to, respond rather rudely and claim that Harry's youth and unwillingness to be in this tournament allowed him some leeway in the matter, or reply that she's just looking after the egg until Harry comes back, which will never happen exposing the lie.

She settled for redirecting Gabrielle's attention.

"Why was Fleur so busy that she couldn't spend the day with you?"

Immediately the girl bristled, obviously very sore over the fact that she had been passed over, again.

"Well, I 'ad been begging Madame to let me go to 'our leelte village, 'Ogsmead, oui? Well, she finally agreed to let me go under one condition, zhat ma sœur was to accompany me, so I asked 'er, she said eet would be fine, but zhen, zhis morning 'he goes zhat 'he eez too busy and zhat to get someone else to go weez me!" She harrumphed rather loudly at the conclusion of her rant, arms crossed angrily in front of her, looking remarkably like her elder sister as she did so, only more juvenile, lacking the grace such a movement commanded from Fleur.

Hermione gave Gabrielle what she hoped was a sympathetic look, ruffling up the younger girl's hair in condolence, a gesture she did not appreciate, but made Hermione smile, before turning back to her books.

Surprisingly Gabrielle was content to sit there for a while, alternating between staring at the egg and spinning it on its side on the table. Hermione should have known it was too good to be true, and predictably the energetic blonde grew bored, so resorted to her newest pass-time: bothering Hermione.

Seeing the girl open her mouth to make an attempt at conversation, Hermione beat her to it,

"Yes?"

The girl noticeably slumped at the interruption, a soft blush colouring her cheeks, but she was not to be deterred; she never was.

"Are 'ou trying to figure out zhe clue?" She asked quietly, suddenly hyper aware that she was in the library, but also that they were being watched.

Hermione froze, unsure on how to proceed; it would be rather stupid to say no, when the presence of the egg, not to mention the content of the books she was currently reading all pointed to that fact. But to say yes would be to admit that she was helping Harry, and while she didn't think Gabrielle would really report her to anyone, the chances of this getting back to the wrong people was too high.

Gabrielle shot a cautious look over Hermione's shoulder, trying to see how close their unobserved observer was. She winced as she made eye contact, leaning closer to Hermione as she did so. She liker Hermione a lot, and Harry was one of Hermione's friends, so by extension he was important to her; it couldn't hurt to give them a little clue, right?

Trying to be as unobtrusive as she could under both the watchful eye in the bookshelves and the amused one beside her, she made a grab for one of Hermione's spare pieces of parchment, she pulled it towards herself, quill in hand, waiting for a particular _someone_ to stop her.

In fact, she was so surprised when no one did that she found herself unable to write even a single word on the parchment. Hermione waited patiently for Gabrielle to do something, but she just continued to stare dumbly at the space before her, so as gently as she could, she extracted the quill, she only carried the one on her person, and continued to write notes on promising spells.

Gabrielle for her part started folding the parchment into a paper plane, but it was too heavy to go anywhere and ended up with a very crumpled nose.

But what she did notice was that they were no longer being watched, and she couldn't help but wonder why _they_ had been there in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Procrastination is a wonderful thing, though i'm not sure if my professors will agree... anyways, because studying is overrated i thought why not write another chapter? I do hope it is worth me sacrificing precious study time (not really), so enjoy!**

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The library had always been something of a refuge for Hermione; whenever she was confused or lost she could simply delve into its depths and become absorbed in its treasures. However, with the approach of Christmas, and subsequently the Yule Ball, even Hermione, tucked away in a far corner, could scarcely concentrate for the dull roar that seemed to fill the room.

Or more specifically, the flock of giggling girls that seemed to congregate whenever Victor Krum deigned to grace these hallowed depths.

Two weeks until the Winter Break started, and the Professors weren't showing any sign of letting up the tremendous workload, if anything, many of them saw fit to increase it. And with the extra bodies now gracing the common room, Hermione could barely get any work done there, not surrounded by drooling boys.

It also meant that Gabrielle had to actually search for her.

Now Hermione had nothing but the highest regard for the youngest Delacour, coupled with the fact that she was utterly adorable, but with the mountains of homework and last minute tests being heaped on the fourth years, she really couldn't entertain the young girl every minute of every day; she was already being escorted to most of her classes by the perky little blonde, with the little charmer even sweet-talking her way into a few under the pretence of simply observing, but really to sit with Hermione.

Only Professor Flitwick allowed her to come back after the first lesson, totally enamoured with the enthusiastic pre-teen, others, particularly Snape and McGonagall, made it quite clear that her presence was not welcome, as it not only distracted Hermione but the rest of the class too. Though, just quietly, Gabrielle was quite pleased to never have to go to the Potions classroom again.

It would seem that the young blonde had grown quite attached to Hermione, practically sitting on top of her at meals, having long since abandoned sitting at the Ravenclaw table in favour of eating with the Gryffindor's who welcomed the vibrant blonde into their masses. Even upon retiring to her dormitory, Gabrielle wouldn't be too far behind, even if she wasn't at all tired.

And it all came down to the fact that she was bored.

Being only nine years old she couldn't really attend classes as a first year; and she couldn't very well sit in on the seventh year classes that Fleur attended as the subject matter was not always appropriate for tender eyes and ears, particularly Defence against the Dark Arts with Professor Moody. So what was she to do for the majority of the day? There was only so much that the small girl could do to occupy herself with in the partially flooded Beauxbatons carriage, and the Hogwarts library only held so much appeal when Hermione wasn't there with her – there weren't that many books written in French, and while the young girl's English had improved it was nowhere near good enough to tackle the few novels available.

So trailing after Hermione, or making a nuisance of herself, were really the only things she could do. She was starting to feel very neglected by her own sister, who was far too busy working on preparing for the Second Task or completing school work or refusing dates to the Yule Ball that was coming up; if she had known everything would be this boring she wouldn't have agreed to come to support her in the first place.

And so Hermione, who would never admit it, was actually hiding from the youngest Delacour. This meant that she would a) actually be able to complete some of the assignments that had been piling up (trying to write on her dorm bed with Gabrielle inconveniently perched on her lap was far too distracting to get anything of value done), and b) it gave the curious little blonde something to do – Hermione Hunting, as Harry so charmingly phrased it.

Hermione was actually very pleased with her current spot; she had been successfully hiding there for the past three hours, and much to her relief had managed to make a substantial dent in the amount of essays due in the next few days. Throwing down her quill with a sigh, she began to work the cramp that had developed in her right hand after furiously writing seven foot-and-a-half papers in three hours; with the weekend starting tomorrow she knew she wouldn't have a chance to escape Gabrielle from the time she woke up to the time she went to sleep.

And the only reason she had managed today was because she had Potions that afternoon, and after her first terrifying encounter with the greasy-haired Potions Master Gabrielle had deigned to avoid walking Hermione to and from the Dungeons, granting Hermione her chance to escape into the library.

Checking her watch, she found that there was still half an hour until dinner, more than enough time to at least make a start on her Arithmacy homework. Pulling the textbook towards her, she was soon totally immersed in the complex magical equations.

A soft cough jerked her back into the present, making her jump so badly she ended up tearing a hole in her page. Looking up, expecting to see Gabrielle standing there looking very pleased with herself, she was surprised to find that it was actually Victor Krum, the Durmstrang Champion, in her place looking rather awkward.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked sweetly, putting on what she hoped was a friendly smile.

To her ever growing surprise the boy actually coloured lightly under her question, looking down at his shoes suddenly bashful, before clearing his throat awkwardly.

"I vas vondering if…" He trailed off, taking a deep breath his cheeks darkening all the while, hands twisting nervously behind his back, "if you vould like to come to the Vall vith me?" He looked back up at Hermione then, blushing all the while, yet managed to hold her gaze.

Hermione sat there dumbstruck for a moment, before the reality of the moment caught up with her, her own cheeks flooding with heat to match Krum's.

She hadn't actually expected anyone to ask her to the Ball, thinking that maybe Harry would as a last resort, but that a world famous Quidditch player, not to mention school Champion two years her senior, would be interested in a bookish, bushy-haired, know-it-all, was surprising. And very, very flattering.

Misinterpreting her silence, Krum suddenly dropped his gaze, his shoulder's drooping under the prospect of rejection, Hermione realised it must have taken him some time to gather up the nerve to approach her.

"Vut that is only if you vould vant to…" He looked about ready to leave as Hermione continued to stare at him in shock, and it wasn't until he actually took a step back that Hermione snapped out of her stupor.

"Umm…" She trailed off, looking down at her ruined homework, gently fingering the edge of her page, totally out of her depth.

As she spoke Krum perked up, his eyes following hers, noticing the rip in the page that his arrival had caused, he reached for his wand in order to repair the damage, but felt that if he fixed it now he would be practically bribing her to go with him. Instead, he waited with baited breath as Hermione struggled to form a response.

Taking a deep breath to gather her thoughts, Hermione tried to consider the proposal logically. Krum, _Victor_, she mentally corrected herself, seemed like a rather sweet boy, and it was obvious, that even with his substantial fame, that it had taken him a lot of courage to ask her to go with him. He wasn't all that bad looking either and he looked so hopeful, she felt it would be cruel to refuse simply because she didn't want the attention she was bound to garner by accepting, and it wasn't like anyone else was going to ask her anyway.

"Yeah, okay, I'd like that."

Krum released a breath he didn't realise he had been holding, a boyish grin making him look much younger than his seventeen years stealing over his face. "Good," he said simply, continuing to smile, taking her hand in his, and ignoring the ink-stains on her fingers, pressing a chaste kiss to the back.

Seemingly at a loss for words, he nodded at her as he released her hand, before backing out of the little enclosure, unwilling to take his eyes off of her, that same smile distorting his normally sullen expression. He flushed deep red when he backed into one of the bookshelves hiding Hermione's little nook from the rest of the world, scrambling to pick up the books he had knocked over, still red and smiling as he finally disappeared from view.

Hermione laughed softly to herself as she packed up her things, he really was very sweet.

Just as she was about to exit her little hidey-hole, exceptionally pleased that Gabrielle hadn't managed to find her, meaning she should be able to use this spot again in the future, a small bundle of blonde and blue walked right into her.

"'Ermione!" It took everything in her not to sigh in disappointment that her latest spot had been found; clearly she had spoken too soon. She supposed it wasn't so bad, and she couldn't really fault the young girl for suffering from neglect from her sister.

"Having a rough day are we? It only took you," turning to her watch intent on drawing the little game out, she missed the serious expression on the younger girl's face, "nearly four hours to find me, one would think you were running out of places to look." She smiled cheekily at the youngest Delacour, only for her smile to fall within seconds as she saw the determined expression on Gabrielle's face.

"'Ermione," she began, taking the older witch's hand in her own, coincidentally the same one that Victor had kissed, "would you like to go to zhe Ball weez moi?" She looked so serious that Hermione couldn't help the strangled laugh that escaped her.

Gabrielle turned red much like Krum had earlier, but she continued to stare fiercely up at the older girl, holding her hand in both of her much smaller ones. Hermione felt bad for laughing, but really, this girl was too much some times.

"Eet eez not funny, I am being serious 'ere." She huffed, clearly put out by Hermione's amused reaction.

Taking a few moments to calm herself Hermione pulled the younger girl into a hug, "I know, and I wasn't laughing at you, I've just never seen you so, well, serious before," Gabrielle grumbled unintelligibly against Hermione's midriff, face still flushed. "So know that it is with the greatest regret that I must refuse."

Pulling the girl back to look at her properly, Hermione still had a trace of her earlier smile on her face. "If you had asked not even ten minutes earlier, I probably would have said yes, but as it stands, someone already asked me."

Gabrielle looked totally crestfallen, shoulders slumping head bowed as a large sigh escaped her. Hermione pulled her in for another hug as the other girl looked on the verge of tears, "Now I won't be able to go." She mumbled, clearly distressed that her one night of fun had been stolen from her.

"Why don't you ask one of the other fourth years, then? I'm sure they'll be ecstatic to be taking such a beautiful girl to the ball." Gabrielle shot her a disbelieving look, well aware that no boy, or girl, would want to be seen as so desperate that they would take a nine year old girl to the Ball with them, regardless of how beautiful she was.

Hermione winced at her own tactlessness, floundering around for another idea, "What about your sister's friends? Surely one of them would be willing to take you?"

Gabrielle went rather still at that, unable to look Hermione in the eye, "Zhe oz'her Beauxbatons girls already 'ave dates for zhe most part…"

Hermione wasn't the brightest witch of her age for no reason; the unspoken message that Fleur didn't really have friends at her own school came as something of a surprise to Hermione. She had thought that the Blonde bombshell fit the criteria perfectly for being a member of the 'popular crowd'.

"Well then, what about Fleur?" Hermione was grasping at straws, and as far as she knew Fleur hadn't agreed to go with any of the boys who swamped her at every opportunity.

Gabrielle looked absolutely horrified at the suggestion.

"Ma sœur? You want moi to go to a Ball weez ma sœur? C'est impossible!" Gabrielle actually took a step away from Hermione, leaving her embrace, all the while looking rather nauseated by the thought of being caught dead attending a social event being chaperoned by her sister.

"Right. Of course," Hermione sighed, grabbing the younger girl's hand before pulling her swiftly towards the entrance, making sure to take several unnecessary turns in the hopes that in a few days' time Gabrielle would have forgotten how to find the little study nook.


	5. Chapter 5

**This will probably be the last update for a while, I'm about to enter into the thick of my exams and procrastination is kinda impossible, but I promise this will be the last "filler" chapter (for now), and the next two will be Fleur centric (at least in my head they should be). Anyways, enjoy!**

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Dinner passed rather uneventfully, though Hermione couldn't help but feel like someone was staring at her. As inconspicuously as possible, she let her gaze wander around the Hall, only half paying attention to the conversations going on around her. Her eyes settled on the red robed figures at the end of the Slytherin table, and found Victor with ease; he was currently engaged in deep conversation with one of the other Durmstrung boys, but as though feeling Hermione's gaze on him he gave her a brief smile upon meeting her gaze.

Realising that he was not the source of her discomfort she let her gaze continue to wander until it came to the Ravenclaw table, stopping just short of the congregation of Beauxbatons girls. Suddenly the feeling of being watched became eerily familiar, and she deliberately turned her eyes back onto her plate lest she make eye contact with those all too familiar piercing blue eyes.

"Hermione?"

Hermione jerked up at the sound of her name, only to meet the slightly concerned gaze of Harry who had watched her subtle observation of the hall, obviously looking for someone.

Hermione gave him a soft smile, watching as he quirked his head to the side, silently asking if she was ok. Eyes flicking up the length of the Gryffindor table, masking the slight shake of her head, his own eyes following her gaze to mask his own nod.

She secretly loved their silent conversations, something that had developed naturally as their friendship progressed. He seemed to believe that she was fine, but resolved to ask her about it later as her attention was forcibly redirected to the bouncing blonde next to her.

"Sorry Gabrielle, what were you saying?" Hermione smiled apologetically at the pouting girl, somewhat contrite that she had been completely ignoring the younger girl.

Gabrielle for her part, puffed out her cheeks, her pout deepening, not at all pleased that she had been talking to herself for the better part of the meal; Hermione had completely missed her blow by blow account of her latest bit of mischief – though she was secretly glad that it was now an expected thing, her sitting with the Gryffindors that is, as she was quite sure the Beauxbatons girls had been shooting her filthy looks for most of dinner.

Sitting next to them would probably be a trifle uncomfortable, seeing as Fleur would probably be inclined to scold her for her behaviour (and then some), something she had no intention of receiving, especially in such a crowded environment.

Grabbing the older girl's arm quite forcefully, making sure her attention was fully focused on herself, she repeated her last statement, (Hermione was too much of a stickler for rules to properly enjoy hearing about her pranks anyway).

"Je l'ai dit, what are you doing after dinner?" Grumbling slightly at the distracted look on Hermione's face.

"Oh," She trailed off, looking quite dazed, eyes having settled somewhere behind the young blonde, "I was going to go back to the library and finish off some work…"

"Eh? Quel ennui…" She huffed, looking over at Harry who studiously kept his eyes fixed on his plate, pretending to be listening to whatever Ron was rambling on about.

Sensing the other boy's discomfort at the inkling that he was about to be dragged into this, Hermione smiled softly at him, clearing her throat before responding to the bundle of energy beside her, "Although, Harry was planning on going down to the Quidditch pitch to play with some of the others from the team, you could go watch him if you prefer."

Harry's ears turned pink at the suggestion, but he smiled, albeit a little forced, at Gabrielle. He knew Hermione was trying to palm baby-sitting off on to him, and while he had nothing against the younger girl, he had heard plenty of stories about how much of a handful she could be from Hermione.

Gabrielle thought about the proposal seriously, her brow furrowing as she considered her options: either stick to Hermione, be bored out of her mind watching the older girl study, distract her constantly and get under her feet for the next few hours before going to bed, or sit outside in the relative cold watching a group of people throw things at one another.

"Eet eez raz'her cold, oui?" She finally asked, looking between Harry and Hermione, subtly ignoring the scarfing of the redhead to Harry's right.

Harry and Hermione shared a look, with Hermione offering a small shrug to Harry's quirked head. They were natives to this climate and it was hardly a problem to them; snow was only just starting to fall, though for a native from the south of France, they figured it might be a touch colder.

In response Hermione dived into her virtually bottomless bag, at least to Gabrielle who refused to believe that the older girl could store so much stuff in the satchel, pulling out a red and gold scarf, presenting it to the younger girl.

Gabrielle's eyes went wide, blushing slightly as she accepted the gift; she was rather envious of the Hogwarts students with their thick robes, finding the Beauxbatons uniforms far too sheer for this climate. She couldn't understand why she couldn't wear warmer clothing; it wasn't as if she was an official member of the school. She shuddered at the memory of Fleur's horrified expression when she caught Gabrielle trying to put on short trousers under her skirt; the older girl had felt it a personal insult to her school, but also to her pride as a Delacour – a Delacour, no matter how young, never showed any sign of weakness.

Secretly Gabrielle was quite content to show weakness if it meant being warmer, but the expression on her sister's face deterred her from saying as much.

"Merci," She murmured in response to the gift, quickly wrapping the thick material around her neck; that it smelled of Hermione was an added bonus, and she snuggled deeply into the warm wool, inhaling the traces of the older girl's shampoo and soap.

She smirked beneath the garment, thinking of the murderous glare Fleur was probably throwing her way. Really, her older sister was so easy to tease; Gabrielle wondered why she didn't just talk to the young Gryffindor, it would be so much easier than keeping her distance, willing the other girl to notice her.

_People can be so silly_, she thought, informing Harry that she would indeed be joining him tonight, after extracting a promise from the older girl to warm her up when she got back. The blush that greeted her was absolutely adorable, and she couldn't help but think that maybe she had found someone who was more fun to tease than her sister.


End file.
